


I wish you were the one

by ShakespearianBlondie



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And Jon knows a thing or two, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Idiots in Love, Jon and Sansa Are Not Related, Just the tiniest angst, Porn with Feelings, Sansa has never had an orgasm, because hey otherwise it’s not funny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-02-28 16:28:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18760129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShakespearianBlondie/pseuds/ShakespearianBlondie
Summary: “And this is where I need you.”“Sansa” he nervously laughed “I’m not sure that I fully understand what…”“I’m twenty-three and I never had an orgasm.” Sansa blurted and Jon forgot how to breathe.Sansa is tired of shitty boyfriends who are unable to please her. Jon is tired of pretending he doesn't have feelings for his best friend's sister. Everyone else is tired of those two idiots who are clearly wasting their time refusing to do something about the obvious sexual tension between them.





	1. Jon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't help myself. I love the "I want to have sex with you but that has nothing to do with the fact that I had a crush on you since we were toddlers" trope way too much to not apply it to Jonsa.  
> It's a bit cliche, it's a bit cheesy, there's lot of taking your clothes off and moaning in the second part but I really hope you will enjoy this. I really liked writing this.  
> As always, just a friendly reminder that English isn't my native language and that I don't have a Beta Reader so pardon me in advance for the typos/mistakes!

« What did you just say?”

Was Jon Snow dreaming? Or maybe he was hallucinating. Because there was no way on Earth that Sansa _fuckin_ Stark had just pronounced those words to him.

“I want to have sex with you.”

Yep, hallucination. Or maybe he was dead and this was heaven. Or rather hell, because Jon was positively certain that if he were to fulfil Sansa’s wish – and one of his dearest for years – Robb would probably emerge from a bush to cut his dick off. He had already threaten to emasculate any guy who had shown a little too much interest in his baby sister and Jon knew he had no immunity for that matter. Sansa was Sansa. She was unthinkable, untouchable.

_And yet she wants you to touch her, in more ways than one apparently…_

“Sansa, I… _Gods_ , is this a joke? Am I being filmed?”

He ran his hands through his hair and started playing with his locks, an old habit of his when he was in an anxious situation. Everything about this seemed surreal. Sure, he should have seen it coming when Sansa had texted him – they never texted, excepted when one of them was looking for Arya or Robb, or very _very_ occasionally Theon. He had been astounded to see her name appear on his screen, followed by a mysterious message:

_“Hey. It’s Sansa. Could we grab a coffee together next week? There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”_

The following text had been even more puzzling.

_“Please don’t say a word about this to Robb. Or Arya. Or anyone. It’s just between you and me, okay?”_

Jon did not know what to think about this. Maybe Sansa was planning a secret birthday party for Robb? That sounded like her. But it was April and Robb was born in December. Arya then? Neither, she was an August child and even Sansa would not plan such an event four months before the actual day. No, it had to be something else. But what?

In the six days that followed, Jon anxiously waited for their date – _it’s not an actual date Snow for fuck’s sake_ – and for Sansa to enlighten him. But nothing had prepared him for what she had just asked him.

“I’m not joking Jon” she sighed “I know it sounds weird but let me explain, it will make much more sense in a couple of minutes.”

She was playing with the rings that shone at her fingers. Jon knew that it was her exterior sign of internal disarray. Sansa was always so put together that it was unusual for her to show signs of nervousness. She took a sip of tea, cleared a voice and spoke again.

“Okay. So. As you may be aware, I have not had the best of luck in the boyfriend department…”

“Understatement of the year.” Jon grumbled. Sansa had the best taste in everything, excepted men. She always fell for jerks who never treated her the way she deserved.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” She was now playing with her necklace, a simple gold chain with a dragonfly pendant. It had been Jon’s gift to her for her eighteenth birthday and he was still amazed that she would wear it so regularly. “Anyway, that’s common knowledge that I have shitty taste in men and I can’t seem to find someone that’s actually decent to take me on a date.” She cleared her voice again, searching for words. “But I’m tired of it. I’m tired of wasting time on morons who are unable to treat me decently, in everyday life… and also in bed.”

Jon gulped. He did not wanted to know about Sansa’s sex life. Well, he kid of did but imagining Sansa having disappointing sex with someone like Harry Hardyng – _or worse, Joffrey Baratheon_ – that was enough to make him nauseous.

“And this is where I need you.”

“Sansa” he nervously laughed “I’m not sure that I fully understand what…”

“I’m twenty-three and I never had an orgasm.”

Sansa blurted and Jon forgot how to breathe. She was now staring at her almost-empty tea cup, like it was the most interesting thing she’d ever seen. Her cheeks, who were once a delicate shade of pink, were now brilliantly red. They remained silent for a couple of minutes, Jon unable to detach his gaze from her and Sansa refusing to look at him.

“Please say something.” She finally muttered.

“I…” He gulped. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to… _assist you_ _in this respect_.” That was all he managed to say, and finally, Sansa’s eyes met his own again.

“Jon.” His name was so soft in her mouth, the way her lips would slightly push forward and then go back, the sound of every letter that sounded almost like a song when she was saying it. “I’m a full-grown woman who has never experienced pleasure. _Real sexual pleasure_. And I want to know, _Gods_ you have no idea how badly I want to know what it’s like to be nothing but a body that vibrates under the touch of a man who _knows_ what he’s doing. Yes, I know how to take care of myself and Margaery has already gifted me the most efficient… erm… _battery-operated-boyfriend_ on the market. But that’s not enough anymore. I long for the thrill of another skin against mine and it’s been too long, _way too long_ now. I need to experience it for myself and I’m weary of every man I meet being nothing but exactly the same as the one before: disappointing.”

“Sansa…” His voice was lower that he intended but he couldn’t control it, not when _she_ was talking about sex like that. “Sansa, I get that you might want to… But shouldn’t you find someone that you actually like? Someone that will make you… that will please you? I mean, you’re beautiful, you’re witty, you’re funny, I’m sure there are plenty of men in Westeros that would gladly kill to be in my position!”

“I don’t care about other men.” She shook her head and flaming locks danced around her. “I just want you.”

_Okay, maybe this is heaven after all._

“Sansa, Robb is my best friend and you’re his-“

“Please don’t give me the Robb talk.” Sansa snapped and Jon was almost surprise at the tone in her voice. “I’m not seven anymore Jon, I’m allowed to have sex with whoever I want whenever I want. And my sex life doesn’t concern anyone but me.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” Jon laughed grudgingly. “You’re not the one that will have to continue his life without his genitals if your brother ever found out.”

Sansa chuckled, the way she would when he was being funny. It did not happened very frequently but when it did, she would always laugh the same way: with the eyes.

“True.” She agreed. “I’ll be the one who was to become a nun. And I’ll probably have to wear a chastity belt.”

 Sansa’s laugh echoed again in the small coffee shop where they had agreed to meet and Jon found himself still amazed that after all these years, she’d laugh with him.

“Is Robb the only reason you’re reluctant to… _bed me_?”

“I…”

He didn’t know what to say. He truly didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t say the truth, that he had wanted her for years, that he had longed not only for her body, but for the entirety of her being. Jon had craved Sansa but he had always thought that she would only see him as Robb’s best friend, a kind of brother in a way.

 _Maybe I have been wrong all along_.

“Because I will not be offended if you were to…” Sansa tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to find her words. “If I was not attractive… I mean it’s okay if you don’t find me… _desirable_.”

Jon wanted to scream that she was wrong, that she had no idea how badly he desired her. He wanted to tell her about that time when they were kids playing in the backyard of the Stark’s house and Sansa had called him her “Knight of Ice and Fire”. She had even made him a flower crown and Jon had worn it proudly for an entire afternoon, beaming with joy at the idea that she had given _him_ – and not Robb, not Theon – her preference. He wanted to tell her that when his mother had passed away, just a month after his high school’s graduation, it had been the feeling of Sansa’s hand on his own that had stopped him from collapsing during the funeral. He wanted to tell her that he would have killed Joffrey Baratheon when Robb had told him what he had done to Sansa. He wanted to tell her that she had always been beautiful but that the years had made her _radiant_. He wanted to tell her that he had always believed himself to be unworthy of her.

_You know nothing, Jon Snow._

“Because I want you to know that you don’t have any obligations.” Sansa was now positively crimson and Jon couldn’t remember when he had last seen her looking so ill-at-ease “I mean, I can always ask Theon, I’m pretty sure he’ll say yes and-”

“ _Seven Hells_ , Sansa!” He cut her off, stunned by her last sentence “You’re not going to ask Theon to…”

“Why not?” She shrugged. “Clearly he’s not the most romantic man around and there is no way on Earth we’re doing it without protections because Gods know what he might have caught but he’s… _experienced_.” Sansa nervously chuckled before adding. “Not as much as you, though.”

“Theon has slept with more girls than Robb and I altogether.” He wasn’t jealous although it was still a mystery to him how those girls could fall for his lame pull.

“Yes but Theon doesn’t please them the way you do.”

Jon froze, but before he could even begin to stutter an answer, Sansa spoke again.

“I heard Ygritte talking with Margaery at a party years ago. She was saying how good you were with your mouth. I believe she even used the word _remarkable_.”

“So that’s why you want me?” Jon snorted. “Because you heard I’m a good lay?”

He was almost hurt at this idea. Somehow, Jon had imagined that maybe Sansa had wanted him the same way he had wanted her. That maybe he hadn’t been so alone all these years, watching her from afar.

“No Jon.” Sansa sighed and stretched out her hand to grasp his. “I want you because I trust you. Because I’ve know you all my life and you’ve always been good to me. You’ve always been there when I needed you. I want you because I know you want take advantage of it. I want you because I know you’ll take care of me.”

Her voice seemed on the verge of breaking when she resumed speaking. She suddenly looked so young, so fragile that it made Jon’s stomach twitch.

“I don’t know, Sansa.” He just said. “I’ll have to think about it.”

_Liar._

 

* * *

 

 

Jon didn’t have to think about for much long. For some unknown reason – maybe the Universe had decided to be on his side for once – he found himself invited to what Margaery Tyrell had called “ _Saturday’s debauchery_ ”. Which was just a fancy way to say that they were going to get pissed at The Pub Beyond the Wall. “They” included Margaery, Sansa, Arya, Robb, Gendry, Theon and him. And of course Tormund would be there since he was owning the place where they would occasionally – _frequently_ – spend their nights and their wages.

_I’ll have to think about it. I’ll have to think about whether I want you or not. I’ll have to think about having you, naked, in my bed, for me only._

Jon knew he was an idiot. Had been knowing it for years actually. But as he watched Sansa dancing, her body slowly waving at the music’s pace, he found himself amazed by his own stupidity.

“Quit drooling Jonathan. That’s not how you’re going to get her.”

It was Arya voice that drew him from his thoughts. She had probably sneak in beside him when he was too busy _admiring_ Sansa. For a minute, Jon considered pretending. Lying. Faking to be surprised, oblivious. But he also knew that if there was one person in this room who could read him like no other, it was Arya Stark.

“Is it that obvious?” He simply asked, taking a sip from his pint.

“You mean tonight or in general?” Arya smirked before padding his shoulder. “You’d have to be as blind as Robb to not see what’s going on between you two.” It was probably Jon’s confused look – well, Jon’s _more-confused-than-usual_ look – that gave him away. “Oh she likes you too. Had been for quite some times now. She’s just better at hiding it.”

And with that, Arya seemed to have decided that the discussion was over and was now heading towards the counter.

“What? Wait!” Jon grasped her arm before she could disappear in the crowd like she knew how to do. “Sansa? She likes me?”

Well, of course the fact that three days ago she had asked him to have sex was clearly an indication that she’d found him attractive. But Jon knew that having sex with someone didn’t necessarily meant liking that person. His relationship with Val had been the evidence: they’d regularly hook up but that was it.

“Like you, fancy you, touch herself thinking of you, want to carry your brooding babies – because there is no way your children will be born without wrinkles on their forehead from frowning” Arya started listing “I don’t know how she puts it but my sister clearly want you to put _it._ Inside her.”

“ _Gods_ you’re so gross when you’re drunk.” Jon laughed. Because as disgusted as he was, he had also fantasised about a small baby with his curls and her eyes. And it had been glorious.

“I’m tipsy you bastard.” She retorted before drinking down her glass of rum. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to make sure I’m getting laid tonight” She was staring at Gendry who had been entailed by Tormund in an absurd drinking game that apparently involved fire shots and taking your shirt off. “You should do the same.”

 Jon knew Arya was right and he didn’t know if it was the alcohol, what she had said about Sansa fancying him or maybe something else entirely that he couldn’t control but when he saw that Margaery was leaving Sansa alone on the dancefloor, he decided to just _go for it_.

“There you are!”

Sansa beamed at him when she was him making his way through the crowd to join her. As soon as Jon was within reach, she grasped his wrist to pull him closer to her, too bluntly it seemed as she tumbled into his arms. Not that Jon would complain, he did not complain at all when he circled her, laying his hands on her hips.

“May I have this dance, my Lady?” He tried to mimic the tone of voice that Theon would usually use when he wanted to flirt with a girl but he thought he sounded ridiculous.

“I thought you hated dancing.” Sansa replied with a smile and a slight blush on her cheeks who gave Jon the idea that _maybe Theon knew a thing or two about flirting_.

“I don’t if I have the right partner.”

He sounded like the hero of a period drama movie. The kind of man who spend the first half of the movie brooding but then has a sort of divine illumination and decided he’s in love with a woman that already hated him and transform into some kind of romantic poet who takes long walk in the countryside at dawn.

_Sevens save me, I turned into Mr Darcy._

“A penny for your thoughts?” Sansa’s voice broke his daydream.

“I was thinking that…” _You have bewitched me, body and soul – Gods he still knows that line by heart since Sansa had a Jane Austen phase and would only watch movies inspired by her writing._ “That you’re beautiful.”

And Jon realised he had never said something more true in his life. Sansa opened her mouth but no sound escaped from it. Her brows were slightly furrowed and it looked like she didn’t fully understand what Jon had just said to her. Her moment of hesitation lasted only for a couple of seconds before she regained her composure.

“So, have you gave my proposition a thought?”

“ _Seven Hells_ , can you not talk about this like it’s some kind of trade?” Jon groaned, pulling Sansa closer to him without even noticing

“Fine.” She was so close now he could count the freckles that sprinkled her delicate features “Do you want to have sex with me then?”

“Sansa.” His voice had become lower against his control

“Do you want to fuck me Jon?” Hers was now a breath against his neck

“ _Sansa_ ” He repeated, feeling his jeans getting tighter and tighter

“Because I want you to fuck me. You have no idea how much I want you to fuck me.”

Suddenly, everything was too much for Jon. Sansa, the too many drinks he had, the heat, the music, the lights everywhere, the idea that perhaps Robb was watching them dancing and that he and Sansa were close, they were so close he could kissed her if he wanted too.

“Stop. We can’t”

Reluctantly, Jon pulled away to face her. He wished he didn’t do it as soon as he saw her face. Sansa looked hurt and Jon knew he had to talk before she could say anything.

“Not in here.” He added “Robb would kill me if I started going down on you in the middle of the pub. Not sure Tormund would appreciate it either.”

“My place or yours?” Sansa rose an eyebrow and Jon knew too well the look that flourished on her face: it was the same that Robb would wear when he knew he had won.

“Neither.” Jon shook his head. “Not tonight Sansa. Not when we’re drunk.” Slowly, he lowered his face towards hers, so that his mouth would only be inches away from her ear. “When I make you come – because I will make you come, Sansa Stark, multiple times – I want it to be because you really want it, not because you were drunk.” He heard her swallow at his words, goose bumps were starting to show on her creamy skin. _I bet she tastes just as sweet_. “I want to be able to offer you my full attention. I will let nothing get between you and the pleasure that I will give you. _Soon_.”

When Jon took a look at Sansa’s face, her eyes were almost close and it seemed like she was trying to contain something, something that was boiling inside of her. And he knew, he knew that it was the same fire that the one burning inside of him at this moment. Jon took a lock of auburn hair between his thumb and his index, making it roll between them before placing them between her ear.

“What are you doing next Friday?” He simply asked with a smile.

“Is that a date?”

Sansa’s eyes were now a maelstrom of emotions that Jon couldn’t quite read. He saw lust, desire, amusement and something that looked like… hope?

_Please say yes._

* * *

 

 

She had said yes. And Jon found himself longing for the week to pass as quickly as possible, as he couldn’t wait for Friday to arrive. At first, he had wanted to set the bar high: maybe take her to a fancy restaurant or to the screening of one of those movies that intelligent people talk about. But if it was going to be his first date – and hopefully not last – date with Sansa Stark, Jon wanted it to be something that he would actually enjoy. Something that none of her shitty as fuck ex-boyfriends would have done for her. So he decided that they would spend the evening at his place and that he would cook. Before his mother’s passing, it was a family tradition that Jon would cook her a nice meal once a week. It was his gift to her, a reward for all the sacrifices that Lyanna Snow had made for her son. He remembered how happy that would always make her, the fact that he would sometimes spend hours in the kitchen just for her.

Jon knew that Sansa loved lemon-related courses, especially dessert. He also knew that although his cooking was quite good, his baking was shit. So he decided to pick a lemon cake from a bakery that was a few blocks away from his apartment.

“Ghost, what do you think Sansa would like to eat?”

The white-furred dog tilted his head at his master’s demand. Jon was facing his fridge, fists on his hips, trying to decide what would please

“Well I know for sure what _I_ would like to _eat_ tonight…” It was merely a whisper, meant for him only. But apparently Ghost heard him given the soft growl that escaped his throat, almost inquisitively. Jon turned his head to face him, surprised by his most loyal companion’s intervention. “What? Gimme a break, will you?”

Ghost sneezed and left the kitchen, but his red eyes met the grey ones before parting, with a look that made Jon gulp.

_I know. I’m in trouble._

Jon Snow had been in trouble for a long time now, given the years he’d been carrying a torch for Sansa Stark. He couldn’t quite remember how it all started, sometimes it even felt like it had always been there, inside of him. But as the years passed, his feelings had left the realm of admiration to enter the unknown territories of desire. Sansa had grown, more beautiful each year and Jon had found himself unable to deny the truth: he had a crush on her. Maybe it was even love, of some sort. But then she had started dating Joffrey and he had met Ygritte – or, more accurate, Ygritte had found him – and for a while, everything had been simpler. He had loved Ygritte in all of her fury and she had broken his heart. Joffrey had hurt Sansa in every way possible and he had broken his nose.

_But that’s over now._

Jon sighed, shaking his head as if it would chase the ghosts of the past. He shouldn’t think about it too much, he knew that. But Sansa’s past had been so harsh to her that he often wished he had some kind of travel machine to go back in time and fix everything. No Joffrey. No Harry. No Ramsay. A peaceful Sansa, free of all of the monsters who had wanted to possess her.

_And yet, you also wish for her to be yours._

Jon almost smirked at the irony of the situation. But it had been Sansa that came to him, and that was enough. Now Jon was just hoping he would be more than enough for her. And that started with the food. He had thought about making something easy, an earthy Northern meal, like a stew. But it was Sansa and Jon felt the urge to prove her that he was good – not only good, but _worthy_. He wanted to surprise her and suddenly came to his memory a book that he had found in his mother’s belongings. It was still here, on the top shelve of his bookcase: _An Introduction on Essos’ Cuisine._ He flipped through the page, hoping to find the chapter on Volantis: Sansa had been there once with her family when she was younger and Jon remembered very vividly how ecstatic she had been about the food. He found a recipe that didn’t seemed too complicated, although it required an over-the-top amount of exotic spices that Jon obviously didn’t owned, and decided to settle for it. Sure it would have been easier to just pick a restaurant and take Sansa there but Jon also knew that the light in her eyes would not had been the same. If he was going to take care of her, he would do it in every aspect. In the kitchen, in the bed – or every piece of furniture in his apartment – or every day, if she would let him.

_I could be good to you. I would be gentle, I would be brave, I would be strong. I would be everything you deserve. If you’d let me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously the date needed a part on its own. I'll try to update it as soon as possible but I really want Sansa's first orgasm to be out of this world so it will probably depend of my inspiration. Wish me luck !  
> Oh and if you would be kind enough to leave a kudo or a comment if you enjoyed reading this, that would make me so happy xx


	2. Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!  
> First of all, I want to thank all of you for the incredible support that the first chapter has received. I truly did not expect to read such kind words and I can't proprely explain how moved I was.  
> And I knooow I said it would be a two-part fic and the second part would be the date (with the smut, obviously, that's why you're here, isn't it?) BUT I kinda got carried away and the second chapter would have ended up being way longer than the first one and we don't want that. So I guess I'll see you soon for part three?

Sansa was standing in front of her closet, wearing nothing but underwear. She didn’t know what to expect from this… date? Was this a date?

_Of course it’s a date, you idiot. He’s invited you to dinner and then you’re going to have sex. That’s the definition of a date._

She sighed, running her hands through her hair. When she had confessed to her best friend and roommate that some of her needs required another form of _fulfilment_ , she had no idea that Margaery would simply say:

“Easy. You should bang Jon Snow.”

Sansa had almost choked on the wine she had been drinking. This took place about a month ago, one of those Saturday nights that the girls would spend at the apartment, drinking and talking about nothing and everything – but mainly about men because that was always an important topic. The redhead had almost been offended that her friend would suggest that the solution to her sexual frustration would be having intercourse with Robb’s brooding best friend. Jon was indubitably handsome and Sansa couldn’t deny that he had been a frequent visitor of her _alone time_ – of course she fantasised about him, who wouldn’t? – but he was Jon and she was Sansa. There was no way on Earth he would want her.

“ _Gods_ , for someone so smart, you can be a real halfwit sometimes.” Margaery had simply frowned when Sansa had voice her opinion. “He’s crazy about you Sans, anyone could guess it from the way he looks at you. And don’t lie to me, I know that you’re not indifferent to his charms!”

“Only a fool would be indifferent to Jon.” It had slipped from her mouth before she could contain it and Margaery had burst into laughter.

“I _knew_ it!” She was shaking her glass so strongly that for a moment Sansa feared they would have to spend the rest of the evening cleaning the Dothraki rug on which they were seating. “Since we spent this week at your uncle Benjen’s cabin near the lake and you’ve spent all week drooling over him and his abs, I _knew_ you wanted to get his into pants! And you were dating Harry at that time for the record.”

Sansa had blushed as she had tried to explain that she did not wanted to get into Jon’s pants but that she was merely admiring the results of what she guessed had been months and months and work but Margaery was having none of it.

“Just admit it Stark.” She rolled her eyes “There’s no shame in wanting to screw your brother’s oldest friend.” And she had added with a wink “Especially when we both know from a reliable source how great he is at screwing.”

That was quite the understatement. Sansa had never been close to Jon’s ex-girlfriend, a redhead named Ygritte that he had met during his first year of college. Truth to be told, she didn’t really liked this girl and the feeling seemed to be mutual. Looking back now, Sansa was pretty sure that the reason they didn’t get along was jealousy. Yes, she had been jealous of the way Jon would look at her, laughed when she laughed and especially of the way he would kiss her when he was drunk. Sansa had stopped going to parties where Jon was invited after coming across them hooking up in the Greyjoy’s laundry room. However, they often ran into each other when the whole pack would meet for a beer at The Pub Beyond the Wall. Usually Sansa was alone since Joffrey refused to go out in a “ _peasant’s bar_ ”- that had been his words – and there was no way on Earth that Sansa would bring Harry to a pub when she knew very well his tendency to hit on everything that had boobs.

Once, Ygritte had arrived earlier than Jon and Margaery had took this opportunity to question – although _interrogate_ would be a more adequate term – her about Jon Snow. The man had always been quite the mystery to her and if there was one thing that Margaery Tyrell loved to unravel more than anything – a part from brand new lingerie maybe – it was mysteries. Ygritte had been surprisingly honest that night and she had gladly revealed that Jon was particularly fond of “ _devouring her like he was famished and she was a feast_ ”. Learning this had made heading to Harry’s bed even more boring for Sansa that night.

“I don’t if it’s a good idea Marg.” Sansa had shrugged, before emptying her glass of wine

“Oh honey, we both know it’s the best idea you could ever had.” The brunette had chuckled

“Or the worst.”

But Sansa had to be honest with herself: she liked Jon, she found him attractive and she even had a crush on him for years when she was a teenager. It was easy, being attracted to Jon. Not only because he was already a pretty boy – but the years had turned him into a handsome man – but because Jon exulted a sense of comfort, the feeling that being with him was right. They weren’t particularly close, growing up. But Sansa knew that she could always rely on Jon Snow when needed.

_And you need him now, more than ever, or so it seems…_

Sansa was biting her lower lip without thinking, her thoughts wandering deeper and deeper in her memories. The way Jon had looked at her when he had saw her in her junior prom dress – Joffrey had never, not once, glanced at her with the same intensity. At that time, Sansa had wondered if it was because her dress was too revealing or maybe he didn’t like the colour of the fabric. But if she had been honest to herself, she would have recognised in his dark eyes something that went way beyond her silly suppositions: Jon had looked at her like a man looks at a woman. Meanwhile Joffrey looked at her like a child looks at his most precious toy.

Sansa chased away Joffrey Baratheon from her mind. She was to dine at Jon’s tonight and she would not bring with her the recollection of what had been perhaps one of the worst periods of her life.

“You know, as much as I adore the idea of you going to Jon’s house wearing nothing but underwear, you might want to wait until desert for the sweet treat.”

Margaery’s voice pulled her away from her daydream and Sansa turned around to see her roommate standing in the door frame. Her arms were crossed and she was lying on the wall, her red lips stretched in a smirk.

“I don’t know what to wear.”

Sansa had barely finished wailing before the brunette was already clapping her hands, as if she had been waiting for this sentence for hours.

“This is my favourite part!”

Margaery eagerly started to pull clothes out of Sansa’s closet, rummaging through it as she sometimes gushed over some piece of clothing before laying them on Sansa’s bed. Sansa stood there, still half-naked and she couldn’t help but smile at the vision that presented itself to her. Margaery had said to her once that clothes were like an armour and that choosing the right ones were crucial when one was looking to achieve a certain goal. The goal here was to get Sansa into Jon’s bed – although Sansa was pretty sure that she could show up in yoga pants with a worn-out sweaters and that he would not mind – and from the pieces of clothing that she recognised on her sheets, Margaery was giving her best to ensure an irrefutable accomplishment.

“First things first.” Margaery was now pacing back and forth in Sansa’s room, her hands pressed together, raised at the level of her mouth. “We need to think strategy here. Obviously you have to be sexy but we don’t want you to appear as if you’re begging for him to fuck you.”

“I think this is the last of our worries given the fact that I _asked_ him to have sex with me.” Sansa rolled her eyes, her lips stretching at the use of the pronoun “ _We_ ”. It was nice to know that she was not alone in this mess.

“Doesn’t matter.” The honey locks that surrounded Margaery’s face softly bounced as she shook her head “When I have a tinder date, the guy and I both know we’re not going to play scrabble and drink tea. However, that doesn’t mean I have to look desperate for his cock.”

Margaery’s logic about dating was a lost cause for Sansa and she had definitively given up trying to understand it. Even Theon made more sense, he had the decency to display himself as exactly who he was: a man looking for casual sex, no strings attached and bonus point if the girl was a sharer. Margaery, however, view the delicate art of seduction as a game with intricate rules that changed quite frequently, making the nature of the play uncertain and unpredictable. Sansa had once asked her to explain how to take part in this weird mating dance that her best friend was so good at but Margaery had grinned, claiming that the first rule of the game was to figure out the rules for yourself. It all seemed way too cloudy and mysterious for Sansa who had taken the decision that she was no player.

“What assets would you want to disclose first?” Margaery talked like they were planning a battle strategy “I was thinking your legs might be a great compromise. Not too much but just what we need to give him plenty of ideas.”

“I don’t want to wear trousers.” Sansa blurted. The stare that followed her sentence forced her to explain, not without a pinch of rose slowly taking her cheeks. “They’re always complicated and awkward to remove.”

“Of course, you’re right! I don’t think we should go for a short length either, it might be too obvious.”

“But it has to show a bit of flesh still. Like with a slip or something.”

“Your maxi wrap dress!” Margaery marvelled “ _Gods_ , I should have think about that one the second you asked for my help!”

“You mean the one I wore at last New Year’s Eve?” Sansa recalled “With the long sleeves and the floral print?”

“Yeah that one. The one that can be unwrapped very quickly and easily.” Margaery noted with a wink, before taking said dress from the pile of clothes that were on Sansa’s bed. “That will be perfect. Jon Snow is going to _melt_ once he sees you in that!”

It was indeed a stunning dress, made from a silky material that slipped on the skin in the most enjoyable way. The long sleeves and its length made more acceptable the – very – low-cut neckline and the slip that revealed Sansa’s left leg perfectly. Wearing this dress always made Sansa feel _powerful_. It was exactly what she needed for tonight.

“Shoes?” Sansa inquired

“Your black strappy sandals with thick heels.” Margaery was already grasping them

“Sweater?”

“What do you mean sweater?”

“It’s November! I’m not going to catch death because of a date!” Sansa protested, not even aware that she had used the word date to describe the evening.

“ _Fine_.” Margaery rolled her eyes “You can wear your oversized cashmere pull-over, the dove grey one. But you have to take it off once you arrive to his home!” She immediately commanded, as soon as Sansa made the gesture to pick the sweater.

The redhead didn’t even had the time to start slipping the dress on before her movement was interrupted by her roommate’s cry.

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Getting dressed, I guess?” Sansa ventured

“So you’re telling me that you are actually going to show up at a date - where we both know you’re going to get monumentally fucked after desert – wearing _that_?”

As Margaery pleaded, she made a gesture that were clearly referring to the matching bra and knickers Sansa was wearing. The Stark girl pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a sigh, clearly oblivious to what the problem was with her underwear. Sure, they were plain black but they _matched_. Wasn’t that of that mattered?

But before she could express her disagreement, Margaery had already flown to her bedroom and she returned barely a minute later, holding a suspicious white carton box in her hands. She handed it to Sansa, and her smile was just as suspect as the luxurious package Sansa was now opening.

“I bought it the minute you told me he had said yes.”

The pale pink silk paper revealed to contain a lingerie set – probably from one of those expensive boutiques where Margaery loved to shop at. It was black but made with a beautifully crafted lace. The bra was probably more of a push-up than the one that Sansa was currently wearing and the tonga had been indubitably created to enhance the curves of whoever was going to wear it. She had to admit that it was much nicer than what she had on herself at the moment.

_And I don’t think Jon will disagree._

_  
_

* * *

__

  


Sansa’s fingers were hastily taping on her knees as the taxi made its way through the streets of White Arbor. Jon’s flat wasn’t that far from the one that Sansa shared with Margaery but she didn’t feel think that a twenty-minutes cold in the cold was the best idea. Plus, Margaery had been horrified that it might ruin her makeup. Not that Sansa had done anything too fancy: just a hint of blush on the cheeks, a bit of mascara and a veil of highlighter on her eyelids and cheekbones. Margaery had insisted that she should wear nothing on her lips.

_“It’s your body he’s going to devour tonight, not your gloss.”_

Her long fire-like hair was in a loose braid and Sansa had no doubt that it would probably end up dishevelled soon enough. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the rear-view mirror of the car and gave herself a reassuring smile. Everything was going to be fine. Everything was going to be perfectly fine.

When the car stopped in front of Jon’s building, Sansa felt her heart racing at an intensity that she had never experienced before. She hadn’t been as nervous before her first dates with Joffrey or Harry but none of them was Jon. She trusted him, more than she trusted her ex-boyfriends altogether. And maybe if this had just been a simple date, Sansa would have been more confident. But she knew that what she was getting herself into was no simple date.

_In a way, that’s a booty call._

She refused to let that idea sink into her. No, it was far from complex than a booty call. She had asked Jon for his help on an intimate matter and he had agreed. They had a deal.

 _Seven Hells, that’s even worse. It looks like he’s an escort and I’m his client_.

She exited the car, trying her hardest to convince herself that this situation couldn’t be explained with such simplicity.

“Think of this as a closure to your old crush on him.” She mumbled as she pressed the name “Snow” on the intercom. “That’s what it is, closure.”

She repeated it to herself as the elevator took her to Jon’s floor and one last time before knocking on his door. When he opened it, Sansa had to remember to breathe because as soon as her eyes landed on Jon, she felt the air running from her lungs. She didn’t know if it was the perspective that he had made an effort _for her_ or the knowledge that in no time she’ll see him _naked_ but Jon was truly dashing that night. Yet, he wasn’t wearing anything too fancy: a black shirt, with the sleeves rolled on his forearms – Sansa was ignorant of the fact that one could be aroused by forearms but she was learning it now – and black pants as well, with a pair of matching leather shoes. The upper-half of his hair was drawn back in what Arya had once called – with a snort – a man bun. But there was something more about him. Sansa couldn’t grasp what it was exactly but she was sure that she had never seen Jon like this before. It seemed like his whole aura had changed: he was no longer the timid boy she had met on a rainy afternoon after school when Robb had come home with a new best friend, he was far from the awkward teenager that would avoid her at all costs or so it seemed. Sansa found herself facing someone that she had known for most of her life and yet, she felt like she was gazing at the unknown. Her stomach twitched at the idea that perhaps, she was looking at Jon – at who he truly was – for the first time of her life.

“Sansa.”

His voice was deep, almost like a whisper and in his mouth, her name echoed like a prayer. Sansa felt her entire body shivering in response to his call and she was relieved that her body was almost completely hidden from his sight by her clothes, otherwise he would have been able to see the goose bumps that had formed at the surface of her skin.

_And he just said my name._

But it wasn’t just the way that her name had vibrated in his mouth, it was also the tension that she could read in the pair of dark grey eyes and how they had embraced her whole body from the moment he had seen her. His stare had more fire than she had expected. Sansa knew she was beautiful, she was aware of the way men would look at her, especially when she made a particular effort like she had done tonight. Nevertheless, Jon’s gaze burned her and Sansa found herself startled at the realization that this is was what she had been waiting for way too long: someone to inflame her.

“You look…” Jon was obviously trying to find the right word, the right way to express the effect that the dress produced on him. “ _Gods_ , you’re resplendent.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” She replied, feeling her cheeks getting warmer as the grey orbs continued their inquisition. “This is for you!”

She offered him the present that she had been keeping in her bag, hoping to escape the burning trail that his eyes left on her. But Jon simply took the present and with a smile, without ever ceasing to look at her, moved aside to invite her in.

“Come on in!”

As Sansa heard the door closing behind her, she also felt her blood pumping more violently in her ears. She had chosen to be here, she had come to him, willingly. And still, she was as tense as a blushing maiden.

Jon took her wool coat to hang it on a hanger, along with her bag. Sansa decided that she would keep her sweater – for now.

_Might as well keep a little bit of surprise._

“I didn’t want to come empty-handed.” Sansa blurted as Jon was opening his present “I didn’t know what to get you but I was browsing in a bookshop the other day and…”

Her words fade into silent as Jon’s brows furrowed at the discovery of book has offered him. It had a black hardcover and in silvery letters, the title said:

“Moans and Thrones.” Jon read out loud “A historical explanation of the links between sex and power in Westeros.”

“I thought it would be fitted.” Sansa babbled, hoping she hadn’t done anything wrong “Given that you’re a history teacher and that…”

Again, the rest of her sentence vanished into the air as she apprehensively waited for Jon to react. He raised his face, and for a minute his gaze was unsure and Sansa was almost on the verge of apologising and running away when he finally erupted into a rich laughter.

“Seven Hells, Sans!” He beamed at her “That’s hilarious!”

Sansa chuckled, trying to hide the dread that had taken over her body a few seconds ago. She was thrilled to see that her first present had been much appreciated. And before she could say anything, she saw a huge white dog running towards her.

“Ghost!” She gushed, happily welcoming the adorable beast in her arms as she squatted down to hug him “Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?”

Sansa adored Ghost. She always felt safe and protected when he was near her and the fact that he was such a goofball while having the appearance of a wolf made him even more lovable.

“Should I be jealous of my dog, Stark?” Jon’s voice wryly inquired

“You wish, Snow.” Was Sansa’s only response as she winked at him. He started laughing again.

* * *

__

_  
_

Dinner had been lovely. Sansa had been absolutely astonished at the efforts that Jon had made to cook for her – something that no other boys she had been intimate with had ever done. The food was delicious, a rich, savoury curry that had just enough spice to make her feel pleasantly warm. Jon had paired it with a Dornish red wine, earthy and grippy, just as she liked it. The general heat of the dinner – and the incandescence that emanated from Jon – had convinced Sansa to lose the jumper. And Jon’s reaction to the discovery of the entirety of her dress had been exactly what she had hoped for.

 _He wants me too_ , Sansa had realised, _he doesn’t look at me like Robb’s baby sister._

When the desert came, Sansa couldn’t stopped herself from whimpering ecstatically.

“Lemon cake!” She chanted before turning to him, gleaming with joy “You remember!”

“How could I forget?” Jon joked as he handed her a plate “We always ate lemon cake for your birthday.”

 Sansa softly smiled at him, marvelling at how _great_ she was feeling at the moment. And it was not because of the delicious food or the alcohol that was slowly striping her from her inhibitions. It was Jon. She made me feel at ease, like it was perfectly normal to be at his place on a Friday night, eating lemon cake and drinking wine on his couch, toes curled under her as she couldn’t but smile. Sansa couldn’t remember the last time her entire body had been so relaxed, so free of all of the tensions that she would usually accumulate. She was smiling and she was with Jon and he was smiling at her and for a brief moment, Sansa allowed her imagination to take over. She allowed herself to fabricate another reality, a word where this perfect instant would not be the result of a deal.

But a deal had been made and since Sansa had been the one offering it, she also had to be the one initiating the realisation of said deal. She emptied her glass wine, as if the alcohol would give her courage for what she was about to do. Sansa had never been in such a situation: with Joffrey, with Harry, with Ramsay, it was always them who would decide when they wanted her and how. She was never in control of anything, her desires, her needs even were inexistent to them. Although she looked like a woman, Sansa always felt like a little girl in the company of men, especially when she could sense a potential attraction. She never knew what to do, what to say, how to move her body, what light should animate her eyes to make a man understand that she wanted him. And she wanted Jon, like she perhaps never wanted anyone before. She had wanted Joffrey because he was everything she thought a perfect boyfriend should be. She had wanted Harry because she was tired of being a good girl and she saw him as the bad boy who she could tame. She had wanted Ramsay because her self-esteem had hit rock bottom and she didn’t think she’d deserve better. And now, she wanted Jon for everything that he was and that he wasn’t. She wanted Jon because she could perceive in the atmosphere that what was between them – whatever it was, she didn’t need to designate it – was the promise of something.

Jon was now staring at her, his eyes darker than a minute ago, like he was reading Sansa’s deepest thoughts. She hoped not, as she put her now empty glass on the coffee table, holding his gaze. The air was thick and moving seemed to be more difficult than before. But Sansa knew it wasn’t a side effect of the wine, no, they hadn’t drank that much and if she was feeling tipsy, it was because of something far more dangerous than alcohol. But Sansa longed for that kind of danger and somehow, as she slowly moved from her corner of Jon’s couch towards him, she felt safer than ever.

“Sansa.”

His voice was a whisper, a plea.

“Jon.”

Her voice was a confidence, an answer. And she answered of all his untold questions by crashing her lips against his. Their bodies collided as well, strong arms encircling a small waist, long fingers finding their way into dark curls. Sansa eagerly parted her lips, desperate for Jon, for his taste. She couldn’t control what her body was doing, it was like her mind was now focused on one thing only: her pleasure. She felt Jon’s tongue meeting hers, slowly at first, almost like he was shy. She moaned his name against his mouth and his immediate response made her moan even more: her tongues were now battling, dancing. She could taste the hint of lemon that the cake had left in his mouth and there was something tart as well, that probably came from the wine. Jon tasted like winter, harsh and silky at the same time. Kissing him was like burying her naked body into the snow that would always cover Winterfell when Christmas came: Sansa felt like a million ice daggers were piercing through her skin and it burned her.

“ _Sansa_ ”

He gasped as she took his bottom lip between her teeth in the gentlest way, making it roll until it escaped her mouth and then claiming it again. With one hand he was still holding her to him while he cupped her face with the other. Sansa could feel his calloused fingers on her soft skin, slowly tracing the curve of her neck and the perception of Jon, Jon’s hands, Jon’s skin against hers, it was too much. She couldn’t think properly anymore, she didn’t know what she was doing, she only knew what she needed him. Her hands reluctantly left his hair to go find his shirt and she started unbuttoning him, her entire palpitating from anticipation.

“Sansa” Jon moaned again as she was now slowly exploring his torso, her delicate fingers delineating the strong lines that years of workout had created, her nails brushing his flesh, button after button, discovering more and more of him. “Sansa, wait.”

She immediately stopped her caresses, her yearning was quickly replaced by a rush of apprehension.

_Have I done something wrong?_

Sansa didn’t dare to look at him, she kept her face lowered, as if she was a child waiting to be scolded. But Jon, with the same gentleness, cupped her face with both of his hands and she had no choice but to look at him. Grey met blue and Sansa gulped at the sight of him: his hairdo was long gone and his curls were cascading freely around his sharp face, his lips red and swollen, almost the same colour as his cheeks and Sansa knew the flush was mutual. Still, she was afraid, afraid of what he would say, afraid of what might follow.

“Before we go any further, I need…” Jon croaked, trying to catch his breath “I _want_ to know” he corrected, his thumbs lightly tracing circles on Sansa’s cheeks “Why? Why me?”

Sansa stiffened at his demand, astounded at what she was now glimpsing in Jon’s eyes. It wasn’t a trap or a tricky question, it was a genuine interrogation. Jon Snow couldn’t grasp the reasons that made her, Sansa Stark, deciding to be in such a situation with him. He couldn’t understand why she’d want him. For a second, she saw the adolescent that he was before, always unsure, always looking out of place. She had pitied him sometimes, when high school hade mare her crueller than she ever wished to be. Sansa wanted to explain, she wanted to tell him all the reasons why it had to be you and no one else but she couldn’t. She had exposed her heart too many times in the past years and she knew she couldn’t handle another form of rejection.

“Because I trust you.” She trembled as she spoke, her voice more fragile than she wished “Because I rely on you.” The veil of doubt was slowly disappearing from Jon’s gaze “Because it’s _you_.”

And she kissed him again, this time hoping to express more with this kiss than the words she wouldn’t dare to pronounce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How cruel of me to leave you at such a tense moment... Don't hate me too much and if you do, at least leave a comment explaining how much you hate me xx


	3. Jon & Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! Finally! The smut that was promised!  
> I'm so sorry it took so long to write this chapter but as I mentionned previously, English isn't my native language and I had never written smut in my life. Since I wanted this part to be as perfect as it should be, I really took my time to offer you the Very First Orgasm of Miss Sansa Stark.  
> Also, I mixed Jon's and Sansa's POV to add a little bit of spice to the whole meal.  
> And now I leave with you with 4369 words of glorious steamy sex. Enjoy!

Sansa’s sexual experiences had always been pretty much average - not to say disappointing. When she was dating Joffrey, he only thought of his own pleasure and that almost always included some form of humiliation. He wouldn’t hold her afterwards, he barely told her she was beautiful and she had heard him complain more than once than she was frigid. 

If only he could see her now. 

Laying on Jon Snow’s sofa with said Jon Snow between her legs, kissing with a fierceness that made her skin burn with desire. Sansa couldn’t believe that a simple kiss could make her want to tear up her clothes and his, but it was fare more than a simple kiss. Jon had been gentle at first, almost asking for permission every time their tongues would meet. Sansa could feel that he was unsure, that he didn’t know what to do or that he didn’t dare. It had been her to drag him upon her as she laid back on the cushions, urging him to deepen the kiss. Gods, he did not disappoint. As soon as Jon felt that Sansa was determined to take the matter into her hands, he suddenly grew in confidence - and in size... She felt him against her hipbone and instinctively, her body rocked against his, brushing in the sweetest agony. 

« Fuck, Sansa »

Jon moaned against her neck, his lips now busy with the tender flesh that connected her shoulders to her face Everything was new to her, even the pride that came with the knowledge that he was hard because of her. Even tough Sansa had grown in a world that had taught her at an early age that men would find her desirable, it had always seem like something beyond her control. Like she could just stand there and do nothing and someone would still be willing to fuck her but that had nothing to do with her, truly. Feeling Jon’s lust against her own made Sansa inebriated with desire, in a way that she had never experienced before.

She felt his stubble softly caressing her bare skin as one of his hand left her cheek to cup her breast instead and a gentle moan left her lips instantly. Jon smiled as his feathery kisses were now tracing the line of her collarbone, traveling across her body, discovering her as if she was a hidden treasure that he had been searching for. While one hand was now gently squeezing her breast – Sansa almost regretted wearing those damn push-up bras because she wanted nothing more than to feel his calloused hands against her skin -, the other had found the bow that tied her wrap dress together and was busy unravelling it. As soon as it was done, the same hand flew on her other side, brushing her stomach in the process, and Jon found himself busy with the other knot that kept him from Sansa’s – almost – naked body. His expert fingers played with the lace until it was undone.

Then, gently, very gently, Jon’s hands moved aside the fabric that still covered Sansa, unveiling her body. His eyes gaze upon her fair skin, scattered with freckles and beauty spots, they traced the curve of her bust and Sansa couldn’t repress a smile when she saw the change in Jon’s eyes as he contemplated her. Given the way his mouth was now slightly open, Sansa decided that she did not regretted anymore Margaery’s choice of bras. They did an amazing job at supporting her breasts, enhancing her figures and making Jon Snow desperate to kiss them – which he started doing immediately after snapping out of his awe.

Sansa felt the warm trail that his tongue left on her skin, starting from the valley of her chest, slowly swathing her stomach and sides until his nose was brushing against the lace of her underwear. She inhaled sharply as Jon raised his face, grey meeting blue, both darken with a feeling that ran through their entire being. Suddenly, Jon’s hands left Sansa’s sides as he repositioned himself above her, sitting on his knees as he took her left ankle between his hands and gently unclasped her shoe, his lips drawing the line where the belt once was;  this mere action made Sansa shiver from her toes to her skull. Jon continued his ministrations with her other shoe and once Sansa was barefoot, his lips continued their travel on her skin, climbing until he reached the back of her calf, alternating between her legs. He nibbled the inside of her knees and Sansa thought her heart was going to burst. She wasn’t even aware of the sounds that escaped her mouth, nor that her left hand was now cupping her own breast, squeezing it each time Jon’s mouth would meet her body.

She could feel his warm breath against her responsive skin, each blow enough to send shivers down her spine. But as Jon was getting dangerously closer to a part of Sansa’s body that had definitively never been wetter nor warmer, she started feeling less and less at ease. None of the previous men that she had shared a bed – or a sofa or even the backseat of a car – had done this to her, for her. They were selfish, always eager for her mouth to wrap around their cocks but they’d rather die than to kiss her down there. And Jon, sweet Jon, strong Jon, was showing no signs of hesitation as his lips were now brushing against the lace that outlined her panties. He slightly curled them up to reveal his perfectly aligned teeth and Sansa thought she was going to burst into flames at the sight of his full mouth turning into a maw, and if she closed her eyes she could easily imagine that the dark curls she was holding with both of her hands were the fur of a wild animal. A soft groan escaped Jon’s throat and Sansa looked at him to find herself astounded by the sight that laid before her eyes: his teeth were griping her underwear and for a brief second Sansa wondered if he was going to rip them apart. She didn’t think she would mind, actually.

But there was something about Jon and the way he was now slowly undressing her with his teeth, sometimes alternating with his hands so that his mouth could drop feathery kisses on her hipbone or her inner thighs, that made her feel more exposed than she had ever felt in her life. He was taking his time, carefully building her pleasure and Sansa felt a shiver of fear running through her fingernails.

“What are you doing?” Her voice was shakier than she intended but she couldn’t help it, not when Jon Snow was on the verge of making her come without doing anything to her.

“I promised you an orgasm, didn’t I?” His voice was deeper than usual and there was a slight cockiness to his tone that made Sansa lick her lips with anticipation. She loved awkward Jon, shy Jon, even brooding Jon. But the man that was laying between her thighs was nothing like the one she thought she knew. There was something raw about him, a brutal determination that Sansa found irresistible.

“You don’t have to do that, you know.” She didn’t want him to feel obliged to do anything to her. She’d heard Harry complained so much about the smell and the feeling of having his mouth pressed to her cunt that Sansa had thought that going down on a woman was not a pleasant experience for a man. And she refused this night to be nothing but extraordinary for both of them.

“I want to.”

It was almost an order and the light in Jon’s stare was none to tolerate a refusal. He withstood Sansa’s scrutiny as his calloused hands grazed against her thighs, removing her black panties without a flinch of hesitation. He never looked down, not when he slipped her underwear into his back pocket with a smirk, not when he traced a new trails of wet kisses through the inside of Sansa’s thighs, not when she started to whimper as his nose caressed the edge of her labia, not when he pressed his pouty mouth against her slit.

Sansa thought she was going to explode.

He started slowly, his tongue lapping her with delicacy, his eyebrows slightly frowned betraying his focus. He looked both hot and adorable and even in her wildest dreams, Sansa had never imagined that a man could make her feel so good with his mouth. But Jon Snow was not any man. He was now expertly playing with her clit, the tip of his tongue tracing figures around it and each time he would touch her bundle of nerves, Sansa would hear herself moaning.

“Oh, _fuck._ ” She groaned as Jon’s tongue plunged into her, his thumb rubbing her nub. Her entire body was nothing more than a raging braze, each inches burning with desire and pleasure. She could hear the sounds created by the dance between his tongue and her soaked core.

“Gods, Sansa.” His voice was quivering, and Sansa was sure that she would too if she were to speak. But now words could come out of her mouth, especially now when Jon slid his index right through her, making her gasp in a delicious mix of surprise and delight. “You’re so wet.”

His mouth was now back on her clit and his name back on her lips. _Jon. Jon. Jon._ She chanted, his name vibrating like a prayer into her whole being. He added another finger and Sansa felt her own grasping more tightly his damned curls.

“I-I’m gonna…” Sansa gasped for air, her back arching as her hips eagerly met his mouth. Something was boiling inside of her, something new, something dangerous, something unstoppable. There was no turning back now as Sansa felt her body throbbing under the wave that was building up in her center, rising and spreading as a dozen of _Fuck!_ escaped her lips, the words blended with moaning and breathing.

 “It’s alright, sweetheart.” Jon’s voice vibrated until her very core and Sansa’s moans grew louder. She now had trouble to distinguish what he was doing to her because she felt as if he was _everywhere_. She felt the steady caresses of his tongue against her clit, his two – or was it three now? – sliding in and out of her cunt with utter determination. She felt his hair against the palms of her sweaty hands, she felt his fingers gently stroking her sides, sometimes gripping her by her hip when the tension made her shiver a bit too much. There was nothing but Jon and if Sansa’s heart was to burst now, she would die happily.

“Let it go, my beautiful Sansa.”

And she did. She did because he had made her his, because her name had never been prettier than in his mouth, because it was too much, burning, freezing, rising, falling. There were no exact words to describe what she was going through, it was as if she had entered an unknown territory. Sansa barely recognised her own voice as she cried his name, feeling the storm inside of her shattering everything. She was nothing but pleasure. Her walls clenched around his fingers – there was three of them – like she never wanted him to leave her. She even heard him grunt and when their eyes met, Jon thrusted his fingers one last time inside of her, bringing her climax to an apogee.

He was looking at her as if she was the most beautiful thing in this world and Sansa was unsure if it was his gaze or his fingers that had made her lose control. Her right hand left his hair to push her own away from her face. She was probably a sight to behold: Sansa was under the impression that her whole body had turned into fluids. Sweat, juice, and even a tear at the corner of her eyes. But Jon’s eyes were full of lust and something that looked just like pride and Sansa felt the need to have his mouth on hers again. She cupped his face between her hands and threw herself at him, making him lose his balance. Jon chuckled against her lips as his arms encircled her, now underneath her.

“You have too many clothes on.” Sansa groaned as her hands were now busy with his black shirt, undoing the few bottoms that had escaped her hands a few minutes prior to this. It took no time before her hands were now tracing lines on his perfectly toned abs – _Gods, he really is perfect in every way –_ sending goose bumps all over Jon’s body. He was about to answer something, his left hand finding his way back to the inside of her thighs, when Ghost decided that it was the right time to make his presence known.

“Woof!”

Both Sansa and Jon immediately froze, their heads simultaneously turning towards the source of the sound to find that the white dog was seating inches away from them, looking at them with what could be qualified as a grin.

“Ghost!” Jon hushed, his cheeks flushed with a mix of desire and embarrassment. More than flustered, he looked absolutely mortified when his gaze met Sansa’s. But the read head erupted into a genuine laughter as the looks of the dog and his master.

“I think we ought to retreat.” She instructed with a wink. “Take me to your bed, Jon Snow.”

“As you wish, my Lady.” He chimed as he straightened up, his arms still around her. Then, on arm moved to the back on her knees as he stood up, carrying her bride-style, earning another round of chuckles from Sansa.

 

* * *

 

 

Jon Snow was certain of two things: he was either dead and in heaven or dreaming. Because there was no way that he had just made Sansa Stark come with his tongue and fingers and that he was now carrying her towards his bedroom to actually make love to her. And if the Gods had decided to be clement enough with him that this was his reality, then he was one lucky bastard.

He had fantasised about Sansa too many times and in many ways: making her come with his mouth on the backseat of his car, sliding into her while pressing her body against the wall of a public library, his hand on her mouth to silence her screams of pleasure, her lips around his cock in the laundry room of the Starks’s house… Sansa had been a part of way too many sex dreams Jon have had since that faithful day where he had seen her at the beach in the glorious beauty of her sixteenth year. He had turned hard almost instantly at the vision of her body blossoming into the curves of a woman. But no dream, no fantasy could have come close to what Jon was currently experiencing.

Sansa Stark was currently standing in his bed room, that he had carefully locked to avoid another intrusion from Ghost – Jon adored his dog but clearly now was not the time. She was wearing nothing but a bra who emphasised deliciously the contours of her breasts and an irresistible flush. Her dress had slipped at her feet when Jon had put her down – _Gods what a sight it had been, carrying her like she was to be his_ – and he could not get enough of the view that was now before his eyes. Sansa, precious Sansa, extraordinary Sansa, was looking at him, Jon Snow, like he was Prince Aemon and not the weirdo that her elder brother had brought home one day. He felt like his heart was about to explode as the back of her hand gently caressed his left cheek, tracing the line of his jaw to meet his neck then the collar of his shirt that she started to slide over his shoulder.

“I told you that you had too many clothes on.” She ordered and Jon felt his cock twitching in his pants at the sound of her raspy voice. And like she knew the effect she had on him, the second his shirt hit the floor, one hand found his way on his torso while the offer cupped the bulge that had formed between his legs.

“Is it a valyrian sword in your pocket Snow or you’re just happy to see me?”

There was something so sexy about the way that Sansa was talking to him, that her right brow arched against her mischievous blue gaze while her swollen lips were curled into a smirk, and the fact that she used historical references – Seven know how much of a history nerd he was – that made Jon groan with impatience as he crashed his lips against hers, his fingers sinking into the flesh of her sides. He felt her hand leaving his crotch to unclasp his belt, as Sansa’s lips were now escaping him to trace delicate pecks on his jaw, neck, painting a way on his chest. Her tongue grazed against the sensitive flesh of his nipples which made him moan with pleasure, and he felt Sansa smile against him. She kneeled before him and it didn’t take a PHD to understand what her intentions were. But Jon refused that she would feel obliged to do so. He had pleased her with his mouth, yes, but that didn’t meant that she had to do the same.

“Sansa.” He managed to utter, his breath short and loud, as he cupped her face with his hands. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I know.” She stared at him with a confidence that he had never seen in her,, and she dropped a soft kiss on the inside of his left palm. “But I want to.” She used his own words and has her hands finished freeing him from his jean and boxers, she delicately wrapped her mouth around his shaft.

Jon thought he was going to die. It was almost unbearable: the warm wetness of her mouth as she expertly took him in and out, her tongue playing with the veins that ran around his cock, one hand holding his ass to maintain him in front of her while the other was softly rubbing his nuts.

“Fuck, _Sansa_.” He gasped as he she took him entirely, his hands sinking into her auburn locks. He felt Sansa chuckle with some kind of pride and the vibration reverberated into his entire body and Jon knew he wasn’t going to last long if she continued such delicious torture.

“I’m… Oh, Gods, Sans, I don’t think I can…” Before he could finish his sentence, she hollowed her cheeks around him and her hand left his balls to take care of his cock instead, pumping in rhythm.

“Fuck!” Jon shouted as the familiar wave of pleasure hit him, making his stomach twitch as his entire body shivered, finding a release he had been holding since the moment Sansa had walked through his apartment wearing that goddam dress. He was almost ashamed of peaking in her mouth but as she swallowed him until the very last drop, wiping her mouth with her hand and a smile, Jon just felt like the Gods had personally blessed him.

_I should go light a candle somewhere to thank them. And maybe bring a basket of fruits._

As Sansa was now raising to face him, Jon wrapped his arms around her and his hands found the way to the back of her bra, unclasping them before throwing them in a hurry that earned him a chuckle. But the redhead’s laugh died as soon as licked the tip of her nipple, hardening it even more.

“Jon.” She gasped and he pressed his – almost fully – naked body against her, his fervour meeting her eagerness.

“Sansa.”

 Her name was like a prayer in his mouth and she was every bit of the goddess he had imagined during all these years. He could not get enough of the taste of her tongue battling with his, their own tastes blending in the most delectable manner. Gently, he moved toward his bed, leading Sansa to do the same. When the back of her knees touched the mattress, Jon laid her down, positioning his own body above her, their mouths never parting from one another. Kissing her was so natural, like the only purpose in his boring life was to bring pleasure to Sansa Stark.

 _If that’s the case, I’ll gladly accept this mission_ , he thought, resuming his kisses with greater intensity.

 

* * *

 

 

Sansa wondered if it was possible to have an orgasm just from the foretaste of a penetration. Because Jon was only kissing her – and touching her, and rubbing his already hard again cock against her already wet again cunt – and she felt as if she was going to peak again. His beard scratched her skin as his mouth went back to her chest, much to their mutual pleasure. Sansa knew she was going to wake up with the definition of a post-sex body: swollen lips, hickeys everywhere from her neck to her thighs, probably some red patches from where Jon had rubbed his beard a bit too much eagerly and a general soreness in every muscle in her body. And she did not gave a fuck about it because that would be tomorrow and right now, she was having the best sex of her life.

“Jon.” She pleaded as he gently bit one nipple, then the other. “I need you.”

She did not need to say more. Jon raised his stare towards her and she read that he knew exactly what she was talking about. Sansa felt a sudden breath of fresh air as Jon hoisted himself so that his right hand could attain the bedside table. He opened a drawer, rummaged through it and finally caught a condom. Sansa took it from his hands to open it herself, rolling it onto his shaft with a slow pace that made her partner growl.

Then, with the same gentleness, she guided him to her entrance. The tip of his cock brushed her clit and Sansa bit her lips as a violent flow rushed through her veins.

“Sansa.” His voice was as soft as he was hard. “Are you sure?”

The young woman felt a knot forming in her throat as emotion overwhelmed her. His precautions, the way he still asked for an explicit consent though she had given him more than one, the carefulness that he had shown towards her and her pleasure… She knew that Jon was as far from Joffrey or Harry as anyone could be. But she had not expected that he would be a million times better than what she had hoped for. Sansa shook her head, giving him a reassuring smile as her thumbs stroke his cheeks.

“I’m never been more sure of anything in my entire life.”

And as she kissed him, Jon slid through her. Sansa gasped for air as, for the first time in her life, she felt complete. She had never cared for the length or thickness of the men that had shared her bed for she knew that size truly never meant anything. But Jon was perfect. His member found his place into her essence without an ounce of hesitation or difficulty.

_Maybe the old gods have fashioned our separate bodies to become one._

Sansa liked the idea that they melted into one another but soon she wasn’t capable anymore of thinking as pleasure struck her again. Jon was everywhere and everything. He was between her thighs, slipping back and forth into her folds. He was on her lips, his mouth devouring her, tongue battling for dominance with a hint of teeth. He was on her body, his calloused hands teasing her breasts, playing her teats, rolling them between two fingers, each time making Sansa wail with bliss. Jon was the aching blaze that was forming in her gut, he was the goose bumps that had taken over her body, he was her cries, he was her delights. Each time he left her, Sansa would miss him, even if he’d come back the second after. But a second without Jon inside of her was an eternity.

 _Jon, Jon, Jon,_ she sang his name with the ardour of a Septa and her own name sounded like a supplication in his mouth. _Sansa_ , when his cock hit an unknown spot of pleasure, sending shivers all over her spine. _Sansa_ , when his mouth left her lips to mistreat her breasts again as she heard herself whimpering at the thrill of it all. _Sansa_ , when their foreheads met and so did their gazes, sharing the same shadow of lust.

“I’m so close.” She had lowered her eyelids as the intensity of his stare was too much for her.

“Gods, Sansa” Jon panted, his face burrowed into the nape of her neck.

“Jon!” She shouted as she felt his teeth against her flesh, marking her as his.

As he bit her, Jon slid his thumb where their bodies met, starting to rub her clit once again. He accelerated his pace, thrusting her with the same tenderness than before but with a newfound force that made Sansa moaned – quite loudly to be honest.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” His voice was hoarse against her ears and Sansa wondered if she could drown in it.

And then, it was all too much. The feeling of his manhood in her wetness, his voice as he said her name again and again and again, his skin against her skin, his thumb on her bud, his scent, his breath, everything was overwhelming. Sansa felt her entire body throbbing as an uncontrollable wave took over her. She dug her fingernails into the skin on his back and their mouths met once again as she reached her peak, conducing him to share her ecstasy. Jon climaxed a few seconds after her as he thrusted into her one last time. She heard him shout her name as she moaned his, their cry of pleasure reverberating into each other’s mouth.

Jon collapsed on top of her and the weight of his body against hers was not unpleasant at all. They laid silently for a few minutes, his cock regaining its previous state and Sansa almost wished they had stayed like this for the rest of the night. But Jon slipped out of her and straighten up, walking towards what was probably the bathroom. And as she looked at him walking away from her, Sansa felt a new surge of emotions hitting her. She had come to him to have sex and experience an orgasm. She had not expected that he would _make love_ to her. Looking at the ceiling, Sansa was now slowly realising what a huge mistake all of this had been. She had deeply underestimated her feelings for Jon. He was more than Robb’s best friend or a forever crush. The way she had felt tonight - sexy, confident, desired – was something she had never experienced before. And she also knew that she would never go through such sensations again. Because it had been with Jon. Jon was the only one who could make her feel this way. And Sansa would never be more than Robb’s baby sister to him. Robb’s baby sister that he had fucked because she had asked for it and that it would be without consequences. Sansa felt like she was going to be sick.

She heard the sound of water dripping and understood that he was taking a shower. She had to be quick. She raised herself from the bed and started to collect her clothes. Then, as quickly and silently as she could, Sansa opened the door from Jon’s bedroom and slipped into the living room to gather the remaining of her stuff. She put her sweater on, then her coat and she was almost done with her shoes when Ghost – who had been peacefully sleeping by the sofa and whom Sansa had probably woken up – let out an inquiry bark.

“Ghost!” She hushed him as she took her bag. “Be quiet!”

She hurried towards the door but before she could open it, she heard Jon calling her.

“Sans?” She turned around to face him, a towel wrapped around his waist, his perfect torso glistening from the drips of water that he hadn’t dried yet. He frowned his eyebrows at her with an anxious stare. “What’s going on?”

“Jon!” Sansa feared she was going to cry if she did not escaped right now but the words refused to come out of her mouth. “I-I should go… I don’t want to… Thank you!” He was walking towards her and she knew she would break if he were to touch her.

“Sansa, I don’t underst-“

“It was a mistake!” She cried as the traitorous tears started to form in her eyes. “I should never have…”

The rest was drown into a sob and before Jon could do anything, Sansa opened the door and ran away into the night, taking her regrets away with her, along with a burden that she now could name: _love_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I guess I shall see you soon for the next part?   
> (ps: don’t hate me too much. I just couldn’t resist. Also if you hate me, could you explain it by leaving a comment? I really enjoy reading your reactions to my work)


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